


Maybe I Need You

by maps



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Reboot
Genre: Caves, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Storms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maps/pseuds/maps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected storm traps Spock and Jim in a secluded cave, cut off from contact with the Enterprise. </p><p>When they wake up, the world they landed on is not all it seems.<br/>Perhaps it's more.</p><p>.::.::.</p><p>"And, hell, Spock I don't know of any other way to say this but, you're kind of sassy under your bowl cut, emotionless face, and pointy ears." Kirk's voice sounds fond, somehow.</p><p>"Sassy," Spock says.</p><p>"Yes. Sassy." The captain laughs and his teeth glow red in the light.</p><p>"Of all the diverse adjectives in Standard English, you choose the word 'sassy' to describe a Vulcan."</p><p>Kirk raises an eyebrow. "A half Vulcan."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> aye noggies i don't own anything star trek affiliated things  
> i just like to write spirk  
> cut me some slack

"Lt. Uhura. Lt. Uhura?" There’s a frayed sound before Spock is alone with his thoughts and gusts of wind outside the stone walls.

"Well, shit," Captain Jim Kirk says.

"I can see how our situation would remind you of excrement, Captain," Spock says, sighing. Oddly, he’s at a loss for something to do. He slides his comm back into his pocket, looking around blindly in the darkness. "We've lost all contact with the Enterprise."

"Yeah, thanks for the obvious, Spocky," Jim says, kicking at the rock wall of the cave they’ve taken shelter in.

The rest of their landing party had been beamed up to the Enterprise earlier in the day, the two of them, however, had unfortunately stayed behind for reasons Spock strongly believed had to do with the Captain’s unwillingness to part with the planet’s alluring aesthetic views. It is strangely Earth-like down here, he digresses, and for that, he warrants his captain’s behavior. There is something vaguely comforting about places that hold similarities to one’s home planet. Now that his own is gone…maybe Earth is all he has left.

His eyes adjust and he can just make out the boulders around them. The vague, hardly present glimmer of darkening clouds and snow outside the cave’s mouth is just enough light for him to see what he’s grabbing when he reaches into his pack for a flare. He sets it off, silently thanking his captain's request to bring such technology, however outdated it may be. It glows where it hovers roughly two meters above the ground, flooding everything below it in red light. Everything above it is pitch black, tar. 

He watches it for a moment, as it floats on the unsteady air, almost wishing for it to fall.

"Spock," he says in a slow drawl, sitting with his back against the rock. His voice pulls Spock's attention away from the red bulb of light. "Spock, Spock, Spock. Come. Sit. Join me."

"I do not see the reasoning behind speaking my name four times, however, thorough reason has never been your strong suit." He smiles a little, the corners of his mouth barely pulling up as if they’re scared, like a small toe testing the waters before plunging in.

"Oh, you wound me!" Jim laughs, resting his arms on his bent knees. When Spock doesn't move, he pats the ground beside him.

Reluctantly, Spock obeys. Sitting with his legs straight out in front of his body, back flat against the rock behind him. He’s stiff as a board, as always. He doesn’t see the need to reply. There isn’t a point to talk just for the sake of talking. Of course.

“How long ‘till we get out of here, do you think?” Jim asks after a moment.

“It is a very strange storm. I do not know why we have lost contact with the Enterprise nor do I have enough facts to formulate an accurate prediction.”

“Yeah,” Jim shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess not.”

.::.::.

“Captain?” He hesitates, not sure how or even what he’s about to ask. He isn’t usually one to think out loud. Yet here he is, contradicting his characteristics.

Kirk looks up from his hands. His hair’s all roughed up from where his snowsuit’s hood had been, and the flare’s red light takes away the hard lines of his face, eliminating the evidence two and a half years of command leave on a Starfleet captain. He almost looks…soft.

“Captain, do you like it here?”

“In this cave? Spock, if you think I’d rather spend the night on cold rock than in my bed, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase my question. Do you enjoy command? Do you like living aboard the Enterprise?” 

“Of course I enjoy it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like it.” He seems confused. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.” He scoffs, “Follow in my father’s footsteps.”

Spock catches Jim's sarcasm, as he had before. If it’s what he has always wanted, he shouldn’t sound so sour. He wonders what would have become of himself, if he had followed in his own fathers footsteps, attending the Vulcan Science Academy. Perhaps he would have been demolished two years ago, along with his home, his mother.

“I see nothing wrong with idolizing such an iconic figure,” Spock replies.

“Well, no there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just, it’s hard to live up to someone like him. I mean, he was fucking George Samuel Kirk. How could I, with what he did?”

“Died in the line of duty.”

“Exactly!” Jim says. “How could I?” he repeats.

“Sometimes I believe you already have.”

“No, Spock. I’ve cost you your planet.”

“I refuse to accept your blame for what the Romulans did. However unfortunate-”

“It should’ve been Earth. It shouldn’t have been Vulcan. It was my fault. It should-”

"James. I absolutely forbid you to say such things. Never in my presence ever repeat that. Do you understand exactly what you are saying?" 

“You never call me by my first name,” Jim says. He looks up at Spock, his eye lashes casting faint shadows down his cheeks.

Spock doesn’t really know why he said it. He knows he only ever calls him Captain or Jim. He doesn’t even know how it slipped out of his mouth. He feels conflicted. Perhaps he once had a dream of what it would taste like, how it would feel between his teeth to speak such an intimate thing as a rarely uttered name. 

Or perhaps it’s merely just a name, a means to prove a point.

“That is beside the point.”

Jim has a curious look in his eyes, and when he shifts his weight, their elbows touch. It sends a fleeting wave of human emotion that Spock can meekly compare to endearment. He’s surprised his accidental knowledge of his companion's feelings causes his intestines to feel lighter than normal. He’d had the feeling before and had since taken the time to quench his curiosity. He’d discovered that this feeling is referred to as ‘butterflies.' He thinks the name is stupid, yet unfortunately appropriate.

Kirk runs his hands down his face, breathing out what seems to be all the air in his lungs. “I know, I know. I just feel guilty, Spock.”

“I do not blame you, James.”

"I know a lie when I hear one, Spock."

"Ah, you forget, Captain, I am a Vulcan. I cannot lie." Spock himself isn’t sure if he is speaking the truth or not. He’s ashamed that somewhere in his chest, he aches. Still, he smiles his small Vulcan smile again and folds his hands over his straight legs. 

Kirk raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” he says softly, “half.”

Spock, having nothing to say, nods in validation.

Jim shakes his head. "Either way, thanks at your attempt to lie-”

“I am n-”

“Spock, save it. I’m trying to be sentimental here.”

At this, Spock remains silent. He is rather curious to what Captain Kirk’s sentiments may be.

“The more I get to know you,” Jim says, “the more I actually kind of like you. A Vulcan."

"I will choose to ignore the fact you are inadvertently insulting my species," Spock replies, eyes falling on the flare above them. He thinks he could do with a subject change. He wills away the foreign pain within him, and continues, “Instead I ask you to elaborate because your inflection is intriguing." 

He looks at Kirk once again, studies him. He knew the moment he saw Cadet Jim Kirk that his face was an attractive one. It is not a difficult concept to grasp, even for him. But it has its flaws. It isn’t symmetrical; his lower lip isn’t as full as his upper. His face isn’t perfectly smooth or completely free of blemishes or visible pores. They’re all just lines, shapes, geometrical concepts. However so, Spock’s fascinated by them because, when added together, they aren’t imperfect at all and that confuses him. His captain’s face just isn’t logical. 

Jim, he even has a scar just under his cheekbone. He tries to hide it with his sideburns, but Spock’s noticed it. He’s inquired about it, spent uneventful afternoons on the bridge entertaining thoughts of how it was placed there, upon his less than perfect skin. It frightens him how well he knows the shape of the it. How many times has he seen it, stared at it? 

"I don't know," Jim pauses to bite the inside of his cheek. The saliva on his lips shines white against the flood of red flare light. The scar ripples, swaying over moving muscle. 

"When I first met you, you were so foreign, so strange. I didn't really like you because I just assumed you wouldn't want to stay around, let alone try to befriend anyone. Especially me. I've dealt, or rather tried to deal, with many Vulcans in the past, and I understand that they aren't the typical intermingling species.”

He licks his lips again. “So when you came along, I didn't see the point in trying to talk to you." He looks off to where the rock turns a sharp corner towards the mouth of the cave. Following his gaze, Spock sees a few snowflakes dare to flutter into their red cove. "Or get to know you,” Jim says, looking back at him.

"Captain, you refer to Vulcans as ‘they’ even as you speak to one.”

“Well-well, yeah. I guess I did.”

Spock looks at him quizzically hoping his expression will do all the talking.

“Well, I don’t know, Spock. I guess I just see you as Spock: My Genius First Officer Who Weirdly Turned Out to be My Best Friend, not Spock: The Vulcan.”

Spock digests that, wondering when the hell Jim Kirk had started ascribing the label of Best Friend to his name and how he doesn’t want to feel the strange emotional ties it brings.

“I remember you calling me a 'little shit,' not two days ago. Have I now been promoted to Best Friend. I still do not understand the relation b-”

Jim laughs, seemingly remembering the argument they had had on the bridge. 

"You don’t have to understand it, Spock, you just are. You're witty and quick. You're loyal and sometimes even kind," Kirk scoffs, “and fuck are you brutally honest.” Spock tries to interject something about how honesty is sacred and honoring it in itself will bring yourself honor, but Jim just shushes him and continues. 

"And, hell, Spock I don't know of any other way to say this but, you're kind of sassy under your bowl cut, emotionless face, and pointy ears." Kirk's voice sounds fond, somehow.

"Sassy," Spock says.

"Yes. Sassy." The captain laughs and his teeth glow red in the light.

"Of all the diverse adjectives in Standard English, you choose the word 'sassy' to describe a Vulcan."

Kirk raises an eyebrow. "A half Vulcan."

Spock stares at him blankly. Jim's light eyes are washed out by the lighting, his grey snowsuit painted rusty. Humans, he realizes, are actually quite complex, despite what the remaining majority of his, and many other, species think; a fact that had constantly surprised him over the last couple of years.

He takes a deep breath. "The more I get to know you, the more I realize that humans utterly confuse me. This also allows me to conclude that I, in turn, to not understand half of who I am. I admit that is something that terrifies me greatly."

"That, Mr. Spock, makes two of us."

Spock cocks his head in question. "This surprises me. After working as your First Officer for the last two years, I've come to the conclusion that you have extremely high levels of self-confidence. Have I been mistaken?"

"No, no you haven't. Everyone and their mothers know I'd never pass up an opportunity to praise myself." He picks up a rock, weighing it in his hands before scraping small designs onto the ground. He looks oddly child-like. 

"But even if I am self-confident, that doesn't mean I can't have self-doubt sometimes,” he continues. “That's just part of being human; you do things, make mistakes. Hesitate because you’re unsure, and then make more mistakes. But you learn from them. You just kind of discover who you are along the way." He looks up. “No one ever really knows all of who they are. At least, not all at once.”

Spock grows quiet as he processes the captain's words. He's always thought he had a fairly strong sense of who he is, what he wants. He takes pride in such assurances, draws connections with them and his Vulcan blood. Lately, though, he's been feeling distant from anything identifiable within himself. His human half feeling things he doesn’t want to feel, diluting the confidence his Vulcan half gives him. It seems he’s just…grasping at straws. 

.::.::.

He knows most humans find it hard to speak to him for long periods of time. Humans are just so simultaneously in every possible place at once. They don’t stop to think things through, discern all the possibilities of their actions before committing them. Humans are terribly short-term oriented. They expect too much, from him, from everything. They expect bursts of laughter and heartfelt conversations. They expect the best to come of them and they expect rewards for even their simplest actions. 

Kirk doesn’t. He doesn’t expect anything in return. He goes to Spock to rant, to complain, to tell him of some new victory, some failure, all without the intent of getting anything from him. Spock personally thinks Jim merely needs someone he knows will listen, someone who will actually hear the words he speaks, not just mindlessly listening waiting for the next opportunity to talk about themselves. Spock isn’t like that. He never has been. He listens to every uttered word, every vowel and consonant is accounted for in his clockwork mind.

And with Jim, it’s easy. Spock is still strictly logical and stony faced, but he feels he’s always on the verge of smiling. His smile may be the least human thing about him, but he has an inkling that Jim always knows how to spot it. Maybe his dark eyes shine a bit brighter, maybe the flat line of his mouth isn’t so dead, maybe his cheeks blush green, maybe his shoulders are more relaxed. He doesn’t have to think so hard when they’re together. Maybe that’s what trusting someone means.

Or maybe his smile is most human thing about him.

He has his theories, too, as to if the captain knows things about him like what his smile looks like and when he is and isn’t comfortable. Spock tries not to intrude into Kirk's emotions, firstly because he is the captain and it’s insanely against all professional conduct, and secondly, because he feels it’s wrong, somewhere within him, on a more personal level to steal Jim's feelings without permission.

When Jim goes to Spock for his therapeutic talks, he listens and replies with an offhand answer, knowing Jim Kirk isn’t that unlike other humans with his tendencies to selfishly fall into the recess of his mind, with his distracted thoughts. It’s at these times Spock calmly reaches out mentally to probe Kirk's mind, to feel what he feels. When vaguely connected with the captain’s muddled mind, it’s the most human he ever feels. The pain, the passion, the hunger for life; he feels these things, alongside Jim, and he realizes he has the same emotions. Somewhere, deep in his mind, they’re there. Perhaps he pushes them away, stores them there under the logic and reason, but it’s taken knowing Jim to see that.

.::.::.

Spock absentmindedly fiddles his thumbs, looking over at Jim’s face, examining it further in the dull red waft of light. Its illogical pretty lines, the growing bags beneath his eyes, the way his eyebrows seem to relax when their shoulders touch. Jim rests his head against the rock behind him, eyes closed. Spock watches him, hyper-aware of their contact. He holds Jim’s mind in his, gently; a far away brush, a barely there feeling of it.

He looks peaceful for once, the captain. The only other times he’s seen Jim look so calm is after their long conversations in his own quarters, conversations he would spend trying to identify with Jim’s tidal waves of emotion. Sometimes it’s a lot to deal with, true human emotion. Sometimes it's too much. At least Vulcans can choose not to feel. With humans, it’s all or nothing.

Spock shifts a fraction of an inch away so their shoulders aren’t touching anymore, his snowsuit making a quiet metallic noise against the cave wall, and ceases mental contact. Jim’s eyebrows twitch toward each other, looking tense. Spock returns the pressure of his shoulder and mind, and Jim relaxes again.

"I find it strange, Captain, and enormously out of your character, to refrain from informing me that you have felt, and thus must have known about, the contact I have continuously made with your mind. It has been years, Jim, since the first time I melded my mind with yours, however small the meld had been. How has an individual such as yourself retained a secret of this magnitude?"

He’s irritated at the look of mild amusement on Jim’s face. Eyes still closed, he replies, "An individual such as me? The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Captain, I know you are aware of the person you are and the characteristics you possess. I would think you would rather enjoy using this knowledge to-to use the Earth phrase-one up me."

Jim's eyes open softly, not in a manner Spock had expected. "You have a calming mind, Mr. Spock. I didn't want you to stop.” He shrugs. “Call me selfish, but that helped relax me more than our 'talks,’ or even my visits with Bones. Either way, I was thankful for it, you.”

“I should hope you won’t speak of this to Dr. McCoy,” Spock says.

Jim smiles. “I don’t plan on it.”

He stares into Jim’s eyes. He wonders what he’s thinking. Being brash and rather impulsive, the Captain isn’t one to hold back his true thoughts. Now, however, Spock has an intuition that he’s hiding more than usual. Spock closes his eyes, frustrated with his conflicting thoughts.

"You knew about Vulcan mind melds prior to meeting me, correct?"

Jim replies with a quiet, "Yes."

"I am now realizing my foolishness in assuming you had not known enough about them to feel the presence of my mind against yours. I apologize for both that insult to your character, and for my intrusion into your mind without your consent." He dips his head once, as if that validates his apology.

"Spock, stop it. There is no need to apologize for helping me. If I was angry or had felt taken advantage of, I would have told you to stop the second you started. I knew you weren't tearing through my every thought and feeling. It’s simple contact, social interaction. Totally fine."

Spock is unsure if he should inform the captain that mind melding with a human for pure personal pleasure is not at all defined as, ‘a simple, social interaction.’ It is so much more and far too intimate. He wonders if Jim knows the importance and intimacy Vulcans appoint to the touching of fingertips as well as minds… He tries to clear his thoughts, eliminate the unimportant, illogical seeds from his mind. It’s of no matter if Jim Kirk knows about Vulcan intimacies. No matter at all.

Spock concludes Jim hadn't expected much of a reply as he now lays on his side, using his arms as pillows, eyes shielded behind lids. His knee nonchalantly presses against Spock's leg. He chooses to believe Kirk merely doesn’t know of the personal boundaries Vulcans have, and tries to ignore the heat of his touch and the warmth that emanates from his mind. Though, Spock seems to be failing terribly at both. He curses the annoying ‘butterflies’ in his stomach, and tries instead to get lost in Jim's ocean of emotions. They’re easier to accept than his own.

He rests his head back against the cold rock and counts the shadows. Some are black, some are maroon in the flare's light, but every one of them holds something different. Pixels of color move behind each rock, within every crevice. They could be insects, small animals, or just his tired eyes grasping for moving patterns in the dull light. He becomes vaguely frightened the longer he stares. The Enterprise’ sensors had observed the planet for indigenous life before beaming the landing party onto its surface, in case their records stating that the planet held no intelligent life had been incorrect. And they weren’t, as Spock had predicted. There are no life forms on this planet besides himself and Captain Kirk. There is no reason to be afraid.

He figures it’s merely the human half of him that is unnerved. They have a tendency to be that way, humans, to be fearful of the unknown. Unlike the Vulcan viewpoint that the unknown is something to welcome, explore. It is better to be open to it than to fear it, because, to Vulcans, the unknown equates to new knowledge. Still, he watches, and still the shadows seem to dance on the cave walls. He tries to push the thoughts from his mind, but it almost seems as if there are faint drawings on the rock, writing on the walls. He yields to the unrelenting shadows and closes his eyes. At that moment, sleep is better than the unknown.

.::.::.

If Spock is correct, and it’s more than likely that he is, at least two hours had passed while they both had dozed. How strange. It had merely only felt like he had blinked. Their snowsuits are made to reflect their body heat back in on them, but as they sit (in Jim’s place, lay) still against stone, Spock thinks the coldness is growing mildly unpleasant. More snowflakes have drifted in through the cave’s mouth, beautifully dusting the black ground pink in the flare light.

He looks down at Jim and, for some reason unknown to him, he imagines what he’d look like with snow in his hair. Dark blonde, littered with bits of melting ice. The impermanence of it intrigues him. How long would he have to stare, to memorize, exactly what Jim looked like in winter? Aboard the Enterprise, seasonal changes are a story, a figment of memory, a myth. Spock thinks that maybe Earth is more beautiful than he gives it credit for.

It hadn’t snowed at all since they’d been surveying the planet, aside from tonight. However Earth-like the planet is, their meteorology equipment hadn’t been able to predict the occurrence of this storm, let alone it’s severity. Spock concurred that there had to be something more among the clouds, something else besides frozen water and wind. Such insignificant elements wouldn’t block out their signal with the ship. Yet the computers and sensors found nothing unusual about the atmosphere prior to them beaming down. Curious, Spock shifts to lay on his back beside the captain, aware of their proximity, and tries to calculate what could be raging outside their shelter.

.::.::.

“Why do you do it?”

Jim’s voice surprises him, almost startles him enough to jolt out of his mental revere. Spock could have sworn Jim had been in a deep sleep. He turns his head to look at him. His eyes looked tired, swollen with sleep, and the flare’s light washes them out. It’s strange, seeing the captain of The U.S.S Enterprise with purple irises.

“I find the experience equally as calming,” Spock says, knowing exactly what Jim is talking about. It isn’t necessarily the truth, but it isn’t a lie either. It is calming to not have to think for himself, to not have to be ashamed to feel or to yearn for a friend, a T’hy’la. But maybe Jim doesn’t need to know that. Spock has had his whole life perfecting the art of hiding his feelings, this one isn’t so different.

“Calming,” Spock repeats, more quietly this time. “Perhaps in different ways, but nonetheless just as relaxing.”

Jim smirks. “Good.” 

He turns over and presses up against Spock’s side. Murmuring something about being ‘cold as fuck,’ he reaches back to find one of Spock’s folded arms. Surprised yet again, Spock flinches away when Kirk attempts to grab one of his gloved hands. 

“Captain! What are you-”

“Spock, it’s only logical. It’s freezing. There’s snow blowing in. We’re laying on ice cold rock. Body heat.”

At that, Jim pulls, and wraps Spock’s arm around his smaller frame. Spock wants to back away, put red flare light between their bodies, but he can’t find any logical reason why he should. He doesn’t know how to interpret what he was feeling because he feels warmer than he knows he should, somewhere in his stomach.

Kirk snuggles against him and Spock can almost sense his smile, but he doesn’t know how.

The flare fizzes out, drifting slowly to the ground like a feather, and they’re draped in thick blackness. With the red light gone, Spock lays his head on his arms and lets his forehead rest against Jim’s relaxed shoulder blades in front of him. He vaguely wonders if Jim can feel his furrowed eyebrows against his back, through the layers between them.

He falls asleep confused, but strangely warm. 

His T’hy’la…

**Author's Note:**

> lol elise was my beta again (even though i changed some stuff a bit after she read it but yknow whatevs right)


End file.
